So, a little more about that story.
This WIHA looked pretty pitiful from the road. But it did have a overgrown creek bottom. The possibility for quail was always the draw. This was the worst of briars, downed trees and just crap. My gear is still stained from the berries that grew along the "creek". Oh yea, the creek. Keep the dog out of that stuff. First year was a $200 vet bill for some type of skin irritation. Lesson learned.
Back up a little. My dad and brother in law where my hunting partners. The rod to get to this 1/4 section was steep and always muddy. Dads dually was also tricky getting down there and he never wanted to mud his truck up. So the adventure started before we even stepped foot on the ground.
Back forward. Stepping out of the truck. Walking that first 100 yards. Then......the chirping of a covey. The dog is over there, but I hear over there. Out of the corner of my eye, dog goes total birdy and flushes a covey. Same time covey flushes to my right. Boom Boom. Wiff,...just shooting holes in the air.
Another quarter mile of walking through the nasty flushing phez along the way and we reach the impoundment. There,...we get the rest and water we craved.
Sitting on that embankment, feet dangling below, just talking about nothing.
....caulk a dottle do....well, you get the jest. This raspy rooster is just going off on us. I look in his direction. Just sorry looking CRP and a few drainage cuts. Oh, this will be too easy. I look at my dad and brother in law, they say all yours, were whipped. I look at Trigger, his eyes say lets go!
Full of confidence, Trig and I hit the grass. Sneak up that draw and pop up right where that raspy rooster sang. Nothing. Walked rest of the draw out and all grass around to no avail.
Get back to embankment exhausted and beat. Got the full story of went down. Dad said rooster waited for us, then hit left as we went right. That followed for the next three years. Me and Trig left, rooster right. We right and rooster left, just waiting long enough to mix scent.
Damn, I really hated hunting that place. But all the hunts I had with Dad, this is one of the two fields we always talked about.
Thank you Kansas for your WIHA.
Even found some Indian bones out there one year. But that is another story.
